Summer
by SniperNinjaKitty
Summary: Gabe goes outside to check on Jack, only to find him barbecuing in the tackiest outfit he has ever laid eyes on. Were those... socks with sandals?


"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

" _What are you wearing?"_ The words slipped out of his mouth faster than he could even think about them. In his defense, though, anyone else probably would have asked the same thing.

And with good reason.

Jack Morrison—strike commander of Overwatch, decorated war hero, his own goddamn fashionably illiterate boyfriend, apparently—was standing in front of a barbecue grill during the peak of the summer heat. That would have been fine and all had it not been for what he was _wearing_ in front of the barbecue during the peak of the summer heat. Clad in a red Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and socks _with_ sandals (the worst part, if Gabriel was being honest), he looked every bit the part of a dad trying to be cool at his kid's school cookout—even though he didn't have kids of his own. To top it all off, he was wearing a navy blue apron with the words _Raise the Steaks_ emblazoned on it in bright white letters. His normal loadout of weapons and ammunition was replaced with an arsenal of spices and cooking instruments that were seemingly spilling out of every pocket on the apron.

It was the worst thing Gabriel had ever seen, and it took all he had not to burst out laughing at the strike commander.

The defensive look on his face at the question was the icing on the cake. Jack looked down at his apron, back up at him, back down at the apron. "It was a gift from Angela. It's funny because it's like the phrase _raise the stakes,_ but with meat steaks instead. It's a grilling apron—"

"Don't worry, I got the joke."

"Do you like it?"

"Oh, Jack, _I love it."_ With the innocent way he asked the question on top of the hopeful look on his face, Gabe just didn't have the heart to make fun of him. Only a monster would destroy a man's passion for quirky aprons. He actually did love the apron, though. It was good fodder; he'd have to take a picture of it for McCree; they'd have a riot later making fun of it.

Jack beamed at him. "I thought it was nice of Angela to think of me like that. And look," he put his spatula down on a nearby table before pulling out a jar of crushed oregano from the front of the apron, "it comes with a built-in spice holder! Pretty cool, huh?"

Gabe narrowed his eyes at the jars of spices. "I didn't even know you knew how to cook with spices."

"Sure I do. The key to a good steak is to sprinkle a bit of salt on it before putting it on the grill."

"But how do you cook with that oregano?"

Jack paused at that and raised his eyebrows. "You, uh, put it on pasta. And salads." His words sounded uncertain.

"Sure." He still wasn't convinced that he actually knew what he was doing with those spices.

Jack picked the spatula back up and went to flip the burgers he had been cooking on the grill. They were still pink on the other side. He set the spatula back down to wipe his hands on his apron before turning his attention back to Reyes. "Do you do a lot of cooking, Gabe?"

He shrugged. "Not really. Haven't had to cook much for myself since I've basically been around a mess hall since I was 18. I grew up helping my mom in the kitchen, though. Cooked for my younger brothers a lot."

"Yeah?" Jack turned so his full body was facing him; he had his full attention now. "What kind of stuff can you cook?"

"Mostly shit that I can just throw in a pot or microwave. I can cook a couple of the Hispanic meals that my mom taught me." It was weird talking about himself. Even with Jack, he preferred to keep his personal life to himself. But the way Jack was smiling at him, as if being able to cook a handful of things was the coolest thing in the world to him, urged him on. "Apparently I can cook some half decent tamales."

"Really? You'll have to make some for me sometime."

Gabriel actually laughed at that. "I don't think they'd agree with your, uh, palate."

"And what does _that_ mean?"

"You think Taco Bell is authentic Mexican cuisine."

Jack crossed his arms in front of him. "I know it's not _authentic_ Mexican cuisine. It's just cheap and easy."

Gabriel teasingly punched Jack on the shoulder. "Maybe for your birthday I'll make you a batch of tamales, then. And then you can find out that you hate them and go back to your Crunchwrap Supremes lathered in _authentic_ nacho cheese sauce."

"I doubt I'd hate anything you made for me."

Why was he so goddamn _charming and sincere_ all the time? He was trying to make fun of him for his shitty Taco Bell orders! Gabriel slid his beanie off of his head. It was hot out; why had he decided to wear it in the first place? A stupid decision. "Yeah, well..." He stuck the beanie in his back pocket, quick to change the subject. "So what's the special occasion? Or did you just feel like making burgers in the 90-degree heat?"

Jack perked up at that. Burgers were something he could talk about. "It's Lena's birthday today."

That was news to him.

"She always complains about how much she dislikes the food here, so I thought I'd surprise her with something off the grill."

Was it his imagination, or did Jack actually stand up straighter?

"I can make a pretty damn good burger, if I do say so myself. They used to call me _Barbeque Morrison_ back in the military."

Gabe had his doubts about if anyone had actually called him by that name, but he kept them to himself; this was too entertaining to question.

"Do you know the secret to a great burger?"

 _Oh boy._ "No. What is the secret to a great burger, Commander?"

Jack glanced around before leaning in, as if he were to drop some confidential information about Overwatch or something. He lowered his voice, "The secret to a good burger is to mix chopped onions in with the meat before you make the patties." He straightened back up, made the _okay_ symbol with his fingers. "Gives it that extra bit of flavor, y'know?"

 _Oh my god, it was better than he thought._ "Sure. Are these bad boys for lunch or dinner tonight?"

"For lunch, of course." Jack set his spatula back down to wipe his hands off on his apron. "Reheating a burger defeats the purpose of grilling it in the first place. You gotta eat them fresh off the grill."

"I eat reheated fast food burgers all the time."

"And you were giving me crap for liking Taco Bell!" Jack laughed. He glanced around the area before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Gabriel's waist, pulling him into an embrace.

The Blackwatch commander was stiff at first—he hated public displays of affection like this—but he eventually wrapped his arms around Jack's torso and relaxed into the hug, despite the pair of tongs at Jack's waist that were digging uncomfortably into his skin. He smelled like barbeque smoke, Gabe noticed. His body felt hot against his from having been out in the sun and in front of a grill for so long.

"You're a dork, Morrison." There was no malice his words, just a hint of playfulness.

"Maybe. But I'm _your_ dork."

"Yeah."

There was the sound of Jack sniffing the air, followed by him cursing and pulling away from the hug to quickly get back to the grill. He let out a noise of despair upon flipping the burgers and finding the bottom of the patties burnt and crispy. Gabe rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face. _Dork._ He'd leave Jack to his burgers; he had no doubt that he'd be too distracted right now to talk to, anyway.

"I'll see you at lunch, _Barbeque Morrison._ "


End file.
